


This Old House

by xbedhead



Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: Couch Cuddles, F/M, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:40:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22771897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xbedhead/pseuds/xbedhead
Summary: Mac and Will enjoy a quiet Friday evening together in front of the TV while Mac learns a little bit more about Will's past.
Relationships: Will McAvoy/MacKenzie McHale
Comments: 10
Kudos: 11





	This Old House

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic for _The Newsroom_ , but I've watched the show many times and read some amazing pieces from authors past and present. I was inspired to write this piece after the cute little exchange between Will & Mac hearkens back to their previous relationship. I imagine they were fairly schmoopy with how sweet Will is with Mac when they're back together and her assurances to him that he was a perfect boyfriend (and Will's later realization that she was pretty amazing as a girlfriend, too). 
> 
> This is unbeta'd so please feel free to point out any errors! Would love to know your thoughts as well.

MacKenzie settles into the couch under the duvet that she’d dragged in from the bedroom and begins idly flipping through the TV menu. In the kitchen, she can hear the sounds of Will fiddling with the microwave settings. After careful consideration of what’s available on TiVO, she selects a show that’s unfamiliar to her, but has numerous listings for recorded episodes.

“Will?” she calls over her shoulder after selecting one of the latest recordings. “What’s _This Old House_?”

The sound of kernels bursting into popcorn fills the air.

“What was that?” he asks, poking his head through the opening above the breakfast bar that leads to the kitchen. He has a towel thrown over his shoulder and is holding a small pan with butter crackling and sizzling inside.

She points the remote at the television as the scene starts – two men with thick New England accents, sitting inside a pick-up truck talking about some sort of renovation project – “This show – what is it?”

“This is what we’re watching?” he asks, his tone surprised but cheerful.

She turns back to the television and shrugs. “You’ve got a lot of episodes recorded, but you haven’t watched them yet.”

The microwave dings and there’s a flurry of popping sounds as Will opens the door and begins the process of pouring the bag into the large bowl and drizzling the melted butter over the top. She can hear the tap running briefly and knows the dishwasher will be opened very soon after. Will doesn’t like leaving dirty dishes in the sink, a near-constant point of contention between them in which she is the serial offender.

Moments later, he emerges into the living room and she shifts the blanket over, knowing he won’t want it near him as they run at about a fifteen-degree difference between what is or is not ‘cold.’

“Your popcorn, _Madame_ ,” he says with flourish as he places the bowl between them on the couch.

She gives him a cheeky grin as she steals a handful and begins munching happily. “Thank you.”

He responds with a soft smile, reaching over to cover her feet where the duvet shifted.

With her free hand, she plucks Will’s drink from the coffee table – an Old Fashioned – and hands it to him, then awkwardly tries to maintain her balance while grabbing for her own drink – a gin and tonic. Will saves the bowl of popcorn from tipping off of the couch before shifting to help her get back into position.

He gives her a look of faux exasperation and she smiles merrily, clinking her glass against his. “Cheers.”

The two men onscreen march up the front steps of a house that looks to be in the midst of a flurry of renovations.

“So, what is this about?” she asks, gesturing to the TV as she settles back into the couch.

“They’re contractors and they work on old houses – sometimes renovating a room or two, other times gutting an entire house and building it back from there.” He gives her a skeptical look. “It’s not exactly regular Friday night viewing – you sure you wanna watch it?”

She plucks a piece of popcorn from the bowl, leaning toward him with an intense look in her eye. “We’re not Regular Friday Night People,” she whispers, attempting a seductive tone before dissolving into a fit of giggles.

At his smile, she shifts toward him, burrowing herself beneath his shoulder and arranging the bulk of the blanket between them as a pillow. Will balances the popcorn in his lap until she settles in and wordlessly requests for its return.

Twenty minutes into the show she’s captivated. There’s so much going on and every step has fifteen sub-steps, each of which the people working in the background like a hive of bees seem know by heart. It reminds her of working in a newsroom. “So, what is that stuff?” she asks around half a mouthful of popcorn, pointing at the television. “The green things they’re taking upstairs.”

“That’s a special type of drywall,” Will explains patiently. “It’s waterproof and it’ll go in the bathroom around the tub or shower stall.” He takes another pinch of popcorn and listens as Norm explains how they’d had to gut the second-floor washroom and had encountered incredible amounts of mold due to poor waterproofing.

“What about that? It looks like candy floss.”

“I assure you, it isn’t. It’s fiberglass insulation – _incredibly_ itchy.”

“Did you learn the hard way?” she teases as she glances up.

He nods sagely and chews the piece of popcorn she just put into his mouth. “The only way.”

Turning back to the television, she watches as they unravel the pink roll and begin cutting it. “And they’re putting it in the walls? In between those tall pieces of wood?”

“Uh huh, the studs. The insulation helps regulate the temperature of the house. They may double layer it, then cover it with plywood, then drywall, or maybe only drywall; I’m not sure.”

“Never knew any of this stuff existed.” She looks up at Will after he squeezes her shoulder in a bit of a question. “Well, being in government-owned houses or boarding schools most of my life, then on to apartments – not much cause for fixing leaks or replacing drywall.”

“Makes sense.”

Forgetting the show for a minute, she turns over on her back, abandoning the bowl of chilled popcorn to the floor in front of the couch. “Did you? Fix leaks and repair drywall?”

“I did.”

“Job for school holidays, or…?”

He studies her for a moment before nodding slowly. “You learn to be…self-sufficient, growing up on a farm.”

It’s her turn to study him as she gauges how much she can press him. He hasn’t been open about his past, but she knows him well enough almost a year into their relationship to understand that there’s plenty of information in what Will McAvoy leaves unsaid.

“Did your father teach you?”

His lips curl upward in a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes and he gently runs his palm over her hair, brushing it back from her forehead and letting it cascade over his lap. “He did,” he finally says, voice low.

She weighs his response that’s sitting heavily between them and decides to bring it to the surface; to let him know that she knows and that it’s okay. “He taught you the hard way, too.”

When he says “the only way,” it comes out as a whisper and she feels heat prickling at the corner of her eyes. She won’t let the tears fall because they’re not having _that kind of talk_ right now, but she will reach for his left hand that’s sitting idly atop her stomach and give it a squeeze that he returns.

“I’m glad that that life didn’t suit you – that you became an amazing, kind, gentle, committed _journalist_ and _news anchor_ instead.”

He brings their joined hands up to his lips and leaves a soft kiss on her knuckles. “Me, too.”

She holds his gaze for a moment longer before turning back onto her side and focusing on the show that’s wrapping up.

When the prompt comes on the screen, Will asks, “Another one?”

She nods her head, cheek rubbing against his thigh, and relaxes into him as he selects the next episode.


End file.
